Walking the Wire
by socks-lost
Summary: A post 3x08 storY - that's the one with the bare mattress and the wine. Rizzles. Soft. One-shot.


**A/N** : I've always wanted to write a fic based on the ending scene of 3x08, and finally, here it is! Thanks for reading!

 **Disclaimer** : Don't own the characters, not making money, etc. etc.

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Maura walks closely behind Jane as they make their way into Jane's apartment. Maura is worried about her. The detective's shoulders are slumped and her eyes have a darkness hinting around the edges. She looks like a strong wind could blow her over, like just one more thing will put her down. This case, this month, this year – the job is demanding.

They live life going from one tragedy to the next, floating into people's lives at their worst moments. It's a costly endeavor. Maura worries at times that Jane doesn't give herself enough time to recover, to heal. So, these moments after the tough cases when Jane comes to her frayed and bent – but not broken, never broken – asking if she wants to grab a beer or a burger or _anything_ Maura's response is quick. Her heart still skips a beat even after all of these years that Jane still chooses her, still gravitates to her in her moments of vulnerability.

Maura watches closely as Jane tosses her keys and gear on the end table. She tries – and fails – to not get too absorbed in the efficient way Jane's fingers unbutton the overshirt she's wearing.

Because, yes, there is _that_.

It's a silly romantic idea that sits in the back of her mind. She ignores it, most of the time. But lately it's become harder for her to distance herself between that want and reality. Going on dates with men she's fond of but ultimately feels nothing for hasn't helped either. And after Dennis she is less than keen on continuing with that approach. Jane leaning over while shedding her boots in a white tank top contrasting with her tan skin is almost too much for her.

She shakes her head trying to clear those thoughts.

Maura gently places her purse next to Jane's wallet and holster. She puts her heels next to Jane's boots and hangs her blazer on the coat rack. Jane rummages in the kitchen. They haven't spoken since Jane asked her to join her. It's a surprise when Jane comes back into the room with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. Maura watches deft fingers work the corkscrew and then pour dark liquid into the two glasses.

Jane grunts as she lays back against the bare mattress. It's in the middle of the living room – a reminder of just what their careers interrupt. The two of them could easily maneuver is into the bedroom, but somehow it fits here. For the moment. She's so tired she doesn't want to breathe. There are days where she both loathes and loves her job – today is one of them.

It's quiet for a moment, and then the next. Maura settles next to Jane in a seated position. It's almost peaceful. It encapsulates everything that their friendship has become, Maura can't help thinking. There's always an undercurrent of tension between them, a river of unsaid words – but for whatever reason, it works for them.

Maura takes a sip of her wine as Jane settles fully.

Light conversation fades into silence.

Jane's eyes are dark and brooding.

"You did good work today." Maura says quietly.

"Thanks." Jane answers, her voice rough and raspy.

They talk about the case for a few minutes. Maura wants to say more, wants to ask Jane how she's feeling, _really_ , wants to help her get closure. But she's been friends with Jane for years now. She knows that approach doesn't work. It only makes her retreat.

So, Maura places her wine glass on the floor and settles slowly back against the mattress. One arm behind her head, the other resting on her stomach. She's still dressed in her work clothes, but it's not uncomfortable. She offers another olive branch, "so you must've had a wedding fantasy when you were little? Come on, every little girl has one."

Jane cracks a smile and Maura counts it as a victory.

When Jane starts to talk about her wedding fantasy Maura turns so she's staring at the ceiling. She can't help her own smile at hearing the story. It's such a soft idea, a soft moment and Maura has that feeling again of wanting to cradle this woman in her arms and protect her from everything. It's so rare for Jane to sound so earnest and real and open. It makes Maura love her more.

But, the longer Jane talks the more wistful she sounds. Like she's already accepted that this is not going to happen. Ever.

The heaviness comes back.

Maura intervenes because she knows this game too, "can I come?"

Jane laughs, the moment breaks, " _maybe_."

They laugh together at that and Jane half-turns so she's looking at Maura. This woman gets her in ways that no one ever has, and she knows that Maura will be right there with her, no matter where she's standing. Jane's smile fades. They've had far too many close calls lately.

She sits up reaching for her wine glass.

Maura watches her slow movements carefully.

Being friends with Jane Rizzoli is like walking a tight rope at times, and over the years the rope has gotten higher and higher. And feelings – decidedly _romantic_ feelings – have made the balancing act far more difficult.

She can play a scene in her mind where in this moment she takes the wine glass from Jane's hand and sets it next to hers. Jane would look into her eyes questioningly. And Maura would lean close, whisper something like tell me you feel this too or just please before kissing her. Hard. They would fall back into the mattress. It's not hard to imagine Jane's long fingers slowly unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it from her slacks.

She jumps back to reality when she feels Jane lean across her to reach the wine bottle.

Jane's shoulders are hunched and there's a tiredness that radiates off her body in waves. Maura can't stand it anymore. She places her hand on Jane's forearm, stopping her from reaching the bottle. Dark eyes look at her, brow furrowed.

"Jane." Her voice is quiet and she hopes Jane can hear all the things she's not saying.

Jane takes a shaky breath. She is barely holding it together. She is sad and angry and tired and she knows she'll work through it eventually, because she always does. But right at this moment she feels like she's on the edge of a cliff and she can't get down. And, here, Maura is looking at her all soft and caring, offering a hand. She doesn't know what to do, but luckily Maura makes the decision for her. Maura pulls her by the arm into her body still lying on the mattress. Jane follows, but doesn't relax. "Maura." She all but whispers.

Maura rubs her hands up Jane's arms, stroking her overheated skin. She gazes lovingly into Jane's dark eyes, "it's okay." She brushes an errant curl from Jane's face, "let me." Her fingers lightly trace down the side of Jane's cheek and get lost in her hair. She gently urges Jane's face to her chest.

Jane allows the move to happen, and when it does her forehead is pressed against Maura's sternum between her breasts. Her heart is beating about a million beats a minute, it makes her hands shake. She still can't let herself relax. Her body is too tight, too stiff. Her legs and arms holding her weight on either side of Maura's body.

Fingers gently massage her scalp and she hears Maura mumble something as her other arm snakes around Jane's hip. The blood rushing through Jane's ears starts to fade and then she is surrounded by nothing but Maura. Sweet, familiar, perfume fills her nostrils when she takes another shaky breath. Maura's pulse is strong, steady, and _loud_ beneath her.

And everything she has worked so hard to push to the back of her mind to forget, comes rushing back.

Hoyt. Doyle. Dennis. And so, so many more. A scalpel at Maura's throat. A gun at her temple. A long, long drop down an elevator shaft. Not knowing, _never_ knowing if she's going to make it in time.

She collapses – her body drops on top of Maura as she buries her face more fully into Maura's chest. Her fingers clutching at satiny fabric. Jane buries her face in Maura's chest.

Maura let's out a slow breath as Jane crashes into hers. She wraps her arm – sure and steady and strong – around Jane's torso bringing her impossibly closer.

Jane doesn't know how long they stay like this. She only knows that Maura is _here_ and that's the only thing that matters at the moment. She is _here_ and she could _not be_.

The fingers in her hair have long since stopped moving and now are just buried in unruly curls.

Jane raises her head. Maura's eyes are closed, soft breath blows from slightly parted lips. Their legs are intertwined, and the hand not in Jane's hair is resting on the exposed skin of her lower back.

They fit perfectly.

Gently, Jane disentangles one of her own hands from Maura's now wrinkled shirt. She traces a faint line down Maura's cheek with the back of her knuckle. Somehow this woman has gotten through every single one of her walls and she doesn't know how. She only knows it's too late to back off, it would kill her. So she stays. She doesn't want to run from Maura, from this.

Maura's eyes flutter open. Sleepy hazel, meet dark brown. "Hi." Maura says softly. Her breath catches in her throat at the way Jane is looking at her: reverently and full of love.

Jane smiles, a little of the sadness she's carried with her all day breaking away. "Hey."

As the sadness in Jane's features splinters away something inside Maura does too. Jane feels too good resting halfway on top of her, their bodies, somehow, fitting oh so perfectly. There are too many dangers in the world, their lives are too hectic and anything can happen at any time. And truly she wanted to be the one to bring Jane's fantasy to life. Even if it's different than her own. Even if it's not elegant. Even if it means eating hotdogs at her wedding, she smiles at that. She can't hold it inside any longer. "I'm in love with you, Jane."

Jane breath hitches, but she doesn't move.

"I am." Maura tucks a curl back behind Jane's ear, giving the woman above her a small, knowing smile. "You don't have to say it." Because she doesn't. She knows Jane better than anyone and maybe now is not the best time – they are both raw, they are both bare and too aware of how short life is. But, perhaps that makes it the best time. The _only_ time.

Jane stares back at Maura, heart in her throat. Part of her wants to run, and part of her wants to see where this will go. As timid and scared she is, Maura is calm and steady. It will change everything, but, Jane thinks, maybe that's a good thing. Her eyes drop to Maura's lips, and god, she wants to kiss her so, so badly.

Their eyes meet and Jane sees that same want reflected back at her. She leans forward.

When their lips finally, _finally_ meet Maura can't help the way her body rises to meet Jane's. Maura presses upward while Jane pushes down. Their mouths slant and the tender kiss turns into more that get hungrier and sloppier as they go. Maura's hands slide underneath Jane's tank top, pressing against warm skin. As Jane begins to slowly unbutton her blouse, Maura can't help but think that the reality of this moment is _so_ much better than whatever she has previously imagined.


End file.
